Seven Devils
by Ninazadzia
Summary: A sex demon possesses Tris, and teaches her a few things about sexual desire. Tris/seven male characters. M for lemons and multiple partners. Drabbles.
1. prologue

**Disclaimer: **Tris will have a _lot_ of casual sex over the course of this fic. If this offends you, I suggest you stop reading. All flames will be used to roast marshmallows.

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><p><em><strong>. . . Holy water cannot help you now<strong>_

_**A thousand armies couldn't keep me out . . .**_

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><p><strong>intimacy (n). something of personal or private nature.<strong>

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><p>I pity the frightened.<p>

The vast majority of teenagers behaves exactly as it should. Carnal. Impatient. Erotic. Of all the creatures on this planet, I consider teenagers the most perfect. They are programmed with a sexual desire that cannot be matched by any other age group.

It saddens me when people stray from tradition. It's normally the religious and the insecure who refuse to embrace their sexuality. Over the years, I've learned to deal with it. The angels won't let me touch the religious. _Let them be,_ I figure._ You can't fix them, not to the core. They'll revert back to their prudish ways the minute you're done._

I mostly fix the insecure. Those that are too shy and self-conscious to express their devilish desires. That type is easy. It usually takes one, or at most two possessions to alter their behavior. But that work is boring. Tedious. Methodical.

My favorite ones to work with are the scared. Actually, the more frightened, the better. Those jobs require more possessions. Three possessions are typically required, and possibly more. I don't get many frightened subjects often, but when I do it's a rare treat.

And the subject that I've most recently found . . . oh, my, is she a piece of work. I've never seen someone so scared.

I come to her in the night. I lean my body against hers, until our souls mold into one. She reacts adversely—she's never been possessed before. _Good. _She struggles for a minute, but relaxes soon after. They always do.

_Six possessions, _I figure.

And so, I begin my handiwork on Beatrice Prior.


	2. al

_**. . . I don't want your money**_

_**I don't want your crown . . .**_

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><p><strong>~al~<strong>

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><p>Rip. Tug. A grunt, some heavy breathing. Tris Prior doesn't treat him gently.<p>

_How long have I dreamt about this?_

A shirt button rips free clatters to the ground. She undoes the buckle of his belt, and lowers his pants to his knees.

He breathlessly surveys her. _Her. _He blinks twice. Yes, still her. The same siren he's been lusting after since day one.

But he never thought, he never imagined . . . he didn't have a chance. Period.

She wraps her hand around his throbbing, enlarged member. Her mouth smashes against his._ Keep it together, _he commands himself. She trails kisses along his collarbone. _Keep it together._

Tris pushes him against the bed, and that's when he knows—he's not going to last long. He's going to be sloppy, and underwhelming. He'll come too soon. And there's simply nothing he can do about it.

She's now replaced her hand with her mouth. Al squirms. She comes up for air, and breathes, "Tell me what you like."

_I don't know. I have nothing to compare this to._

"You're perfect," he gasps.

His voice rings out too loudly. She chuckles under her breath. She continues her work.

_I don't know what I did that warrants this. But I'm not questioning it._


	3. will

… _**See I've come to burn your kingdom down …**_

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><p><strong>~will~<strong>

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><p>He's nervous, and for good reason.<p>

_If we're caught. If Christina walks in. If anyone finds out._

_ If._

The initiates spent the night passing around a bottle of tequila. More alcohol runs through Will's veins than blood—and Tris Prior is sending it to the southernmost region of his body.

Her lips move hungrily against his. "We're drunk," he murmurs.

She pulls back, and stares into his eyes. "I don't care," she replies.

_Christina. Think about Christina._

Her hand wraps around his, and she brings his palm to her chest. He squeezes her breast. His pulse would be racing, if he wasn't so drunk.

Truthfully, he finds her desirable in all of the wrong ways. She's cunning. She's cold. She's his girlfriend's best friend, and the subject of his best friend's sexual fantasies. There's something so attractive in that which is forbidden.

She moves his hand down to the zipper of her jeans. He fumbles around, until he has two finger pumping in and out of her warmth.

_She's forbidden, alright, _he muses. _But I'll be damned if forbidden fruit isn't the sweetest I've ever had._


	4. zeke

… _**Holy water cannot help you now**_

_**See I have to burn your kingdom down …**_

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><p><strong>~zeke~<strong>

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><p>As he thrusts inside of her, Four's warning comes to mind.<p>

_"You better not ravish my initiates. I don't care if you flirt with them, but keepit PG. You get around with the older girls enough as it is."_

It started innocently enough. She walked up to him after dinner, and asked about his new tattoo. An animated discussion ensued. And then he invited her back to his apartment, saying, "You should see some of my sketches. Tori is going to use them in the parlor."

It escalated from there. He feels bad, and he knows he should—he can tell that Four has his eye on her. _So much for being a good friend._

"Faster," she moans. He pumps in and out of her, and suppresses a moan himself.

How many women has he been with, at that point? Twelve, thirteen? They were meaningless fucks, of course, but fucks nonetheless. And Tris Prior is no different.

"Fuck, Zeke…"

Short, thin, and blonde—she's not his type. She's nothing like the tanned, buxom girls he goes for. But when she started kissing his neck and ripping off his clothes, he wasn't going to say no. _A guy has needs, _he figures. _And so does she._

They're animals acting on carnal instinct. Plain and simple.


	5. uriah

… _**And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out**_

_**I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out …**_

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><p><strong>~uriah~<strong>

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><p>He stops short, just after they've undressed. "This is a bad idea."<p>

She laughs, and her voice sounds like ringing bells. There's something so unnerving about her high-pitched, angelic laugh. It doesn't suit a girl like her.

"Why? Because I fucked your brother first?"

He stares into her wide, blue eyes. No remorse, no innocence. Only a hint of the devil.

"Don't look so surprised. I'm assuming he told you."

He looks down and surveys her. Pale skin. Freckles. A strong body. He can't help but think of Marlene. He wonders if her body looks the same—or if he'll ever get to see it.

_Better get some practice, so I know what I'm in for._

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you Stiff?" he taunts.

She lies down on the bed, and beckons him forward. He obliges. He breathes in the scent of her skin, her hair, her everything. It won't be his first time, and it won't be his last.

She gives him a peck on the lips. And then she pulls away and whispers, "Don't deny that the 'stiff' is making you stiff."


	6. peter

**~peter~**

They're alone in the dorm when she kisses him.

It happens unceremoniously. Her breath feels hot against his cold, cracked lips. He pulls away almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" he demands.

He's heard the rumors. The Stiff has shed her good girl image and is making the rounds—but he never expected to be one of them.

"Oh come on, Peter," she laughs darkly. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, and pulls it off in one graceful swoop. "I didn't think you got a good enough look, that night at the chasm."

His hair stands on end. Slender, flat and fair—her body is exactly what he expects it to be. And for whatever reason, she's sharing it with him.

"Why?" he asks.

A devilish smile plays on her lips. She walks forward, and wraps her arms around his neck. She leans to his ear and whispers, "Because no one can fuck me harder than you can."

She raises an eyebrow, as if to ask a question. He answers it by crushing his lips against hers. Articles of clothing fly through the air, and before long they're stark naked, somersaulting through the sheets and coated in sweat.

She's right, of course. He thrusts too deep and too fast—he can't tell if her expression is one of pleasure or pain. He doubts Al or Will or any of the others were so rough with her.


	7. eric

**~eric~**

When Beatrice Prior makes a pass at him, he expects it, and even relishes it. _Finally. An excuse to do what I want._

Their fully clothed, sweaty bodies mingle together in the training room. They're up against a wall, and she's pinned under his arm.

"You're the talk of the faction, you know," he growls. "Your antics are catching up to you."

She smirks. "Are you here to give me a lecture, Eric?" She thrusts her hips into his. It's a jolt, and it gets his blood flowing. She laughs. "Because right now your dick is doing all of the talking."

He doesn't get offers from girls like her very often. Butch, broad, and tough are the kinds of women that prefer him. He hasn't slept with fragile blonde beauty in a very long time.

These kinds of fucks were his favorites.

"You do this my way." His voice is so low, so menacing. He expects her to cower under his glare. If anything, her blue eyes dance with excitement.

He glances to the strap of her shirt. "Take it off," he growls.

Just as the fabric comes off over her head, he crushes her lips against hers. It's a rough, unwavering kiss, and she reciprocates in a way he didn't know she could.

"Turn around," he commands.

Unzip. Rip. Tug. Their pants come off in one flustered swoop. He rams himself into her, until the concrete wall shakes and their cries echo throughout the training center. As he's about to come, he notices the beads of sweat that roll down her neck.

"I could get used to taking orders from you," she breathes.


End file.
